


Snap

by alesia



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-22
Updated: 2007-12-22
Packaged: 2020-01-16 15:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18523912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesia/pseuds/alesia
Summary: What Joe and Methos werereallydoing when 'Adam's flat got shot up.





	Snap

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Roadshow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18521656) by [alesia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesia/pseuds/alesia). 



> Just a bit of fluffy Watcher bonding time with squicky references to past arcs, as you do.
> 
> Originally posted on hlfiction.net.

"Go on, here're the keys, I'll get the groceries."

Joe grumbled his way up the steps. The old man couldn't pick a place that was easier on his legs? He fumbled with the lock for a moment and then swung the door wide. Inside, darkness, and the soft sound of stealthy - yet fast - movement, like some lurking menace was running a marathon in velvet shoes. Joe flinched instinctively as a loud scream came from the cavernous void, a sound more suited to monster movies or his nightmares of 'Nam than a supposedly empty apartment.

"Oh, that's just Cassandra," Methos tossed over his shoulder as he strode carelessly into the abyss, both arms taken with heavy paper sacks. "Don't mind her, her yowl is worse than her scratch." Then a hissing sound, and Joe, once more braving the doorway into the old man's abode, fumbled about for the light switch. He found it just as the ancient pain in the ass let out a loud yelp.

"Her yowl is worse than her scratch, huh?" Joe remarked sardonically as he thumped on in and shut the door behind him. The place looked nice in the light, shiny clean like it had been rented fully furnished and never really moved into. Which, come to think of it, was probably the case.

"Usually," Methos replied, his teeth clenched. He set the bags down on the spotless marble kitchen island carefully and then scooped a fluffed-out tabby up from the floor, holding her out at arms' length. "Now that's not very nice, Cassie, not when Daddy has presents for you."

"That's disturbing, man."

"Why? I bring her home dead things. Sometimes she eats them, sometimes she walks off in disgust, sometimes she stabs me with those sharp little claws. If the name fits..."

"That's  _why_  it's disturbing."

Methos shrugged, unrepentant, and pulled a paper-wrapped slab of finned cat food from one bag. "Whatever, Joe." He retrieved a long butcher knife and chunked off a piece. "Come on, Cassie, be a good kitty. Daddy brought you fresh fish. It's cod, your favorite..." The cat sat down with her back to him and began to wash.

"Did you wheedle the other one this way too?" Joe took a seat on one of the barstools across the counter since it didn't look like the old man was about to offer him a chair.

The cat merely flirted her tail and jumped to the windowsill, then sauntered out into the night.

Methos smiled.

Joe looked after the cat, then at Methos, then back at the open - and empty - window. Well, what do you know.

~ * ~

Then all hell broke loose.


End file.
